Hope Is The Thing With Wings
by Lady of the Deceased
Summary: Just some Yullen drabbles. i make no promises of happy, fuzzy stuff, but i'll try not to be too evil to these characters, seeing as they aren't mine. Some may be really bad, so if you don't like that, you may want to skip over those. T for life's constant mysteries.
1. Chapter 1

Kanda had always kind of wondered, in the dirty back streets of his mind, what kind of strange upbringing had created the odd creature that had appeared before him.

It couldn't have been General Cross. He was generally acknowledged as 'weird-with-a-purpose'. This bizarre man hadn't come from that, nosirree. The smiles and speech patterns were different.

And he was a man. He wasn't a boy anymore. He protected Akuma with a savage gentleness that angered some, but generally just amused Kanda. He was quick to hide it, though, preferring instead to scowl and bluster; hide his feelings behind an armor of insults and threats.

This white-haired human was like an archangel: one of God's angels, fallen from grace. He was kind to children, showing a strangely motherly side; but if you ventured upon questions of his own childhood, you'd be met by a hard wall of anger and fear. Red hot pain and icy stares, almost equal to Kanda's own.

After long musing sessions, Kanda came upon an answer.

Allen Walker had created himself.


	2. Chapter 2

If grief had a taste, a flavor, it'd be metallic, like blood on his lip when he bites himself to keep from crying out. Or maybe it'd be salty, like tears falling at a funeral.

Perhaps it'd taste like Beansprout, light and smooth with hints of citrus, chocolate, and Kanda's own soba noodles from previous kisses. It's with a dark humor that Kanda thinks about this. He realizes he'll never taste that blend again. It died with Allen, who threw himself into any fight, anywhere, with anyone, even opponents who could obviously kick his ass into space.

Kanda retreats to his room and isn't seen again until Lenalee and Lavi come to invite him to dinner. They find him hanging, swinging peacefully with a soft smile. They don't cry or scream, merely sigh sadly.

The funeral is a week later.


	3. Chapter 3

Every once in a while, if you glance out the window, you can see him watching you. His eyes don't leave you, even when a student shouts at him that he'll be late to biology. You fidget, request to use the bathroom, get up and leave. You look out the window as you walk slow, but he's gone. You quicken your pace, but somehow you know it's no good. He's always had longer legs than you, even in a past life. Running will only make you tire quicker.

You round a corner and he's there, in your way, with a determined look on his face, like he means to stop you and make you see reason. You don't resist, and pretend not to see him until he cages you in his against his chest. It's almost like before, like dying.

"Beansprout," he says, "come back to me." And you do.


	4. Chapter 4

You watch him through the window like you always have, through glass and shadows, and the lilies that accompany you fall on his hair, bloom on his desk, and cover the scar that has always been there but looks different in this life. You remember that scar hazily, and it bothers you how much is missing from your mind. Is this a punishment? A gift? You can't tell. You don't know what you've forgotten, after all.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours quickly, painfully, and you remember them clenched tight, clouding over with death, and it rips you apart inside. You're running, almost before you register that he's leaving the classroom. A student shouted something at you before, but you've already forgotten what they said; it was of no importance to you, that much you remember.

The war is over in this life, with nothing to fight, and Alma has given his _and_ her blessing. All you want, in this instant and for the rest of this life, is Allen.

When you find him wandering down a hallway looking dazed, you murmur in his ear as you crush him to you, "Beansprout, come back to me."

And he does.

(And then you enjoy a satisfying dosage of Allen in the conveniently located nearby bathroom, before carting him home to enjoy him some more. It's been a while.)


	5. Chapter 5

Once, when Lenalee was staying at her friend's, Allen's and Kanda's, house, she accidentally walked into the kitchen during a romantic moment.

Allen was standing by the sink, his hands dry even though he was supposed to be washing dishes. Kanda had his arms around Allen's waist, and was kissing Allen's neck gently. They were swaying from side to side softly, with Allen's eyes closed and his head lying nestled against Kanda's neck and shoulder as he hummed happily.

They didn't notice her, and she quietly, lovingly stepped out, closing the door gently behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

Allen didn't _feel_ like a Noah. He didn't _feel_ like anything but Allen when Kanda touched him, slid his hands down his back and gently touched the scars. It was one of the only times he _was_ gentle with Allen, unless he was badly injured.

"Beanstalk?" Kanda _does_ care. He wouldn't have sex with Allen if he didn't. He notices the little things now, after being _together_ for so long. The tightening around the eyes, the small, almost unnoticed winces, the smile that's only slightly watered-down from his usual one. "Are you okay?"

Allen rolls his hips with a gasp, and Kanda breathes out desperately, needily. "Yes, I'm just-" deep breath, "fine," as he kisses Kanda's cheek lightly, tangles his fingers in the long dark strands that cover them both like a second skin. Kanda strokes Allen's back, watching the white-haired boy lean into the touch with a low hum.

He's beautiful, but someday Kanda will lose him to the dark-haired man who dwelled within Allen's skin, hide between his thoughts. The one who came out while Allen dreamed, and taunted him with images, stories, that caused Allen to wake and worry, and ask with concern why he cried.

And he clutched his lover tighter, reveled in his face, and went back to sleep.


End file.
